


exit light

by kamsangi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Obsession (EXO Music Video), Doppelganger, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Introspection, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Moral Ambiguity, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamsangi/pseuds/kamsangi
Summary: “You’re not usually this quiet,” Chen observes.“Well, you’re the one who lured me here,” Jongdae says. He settles into the high-backed chair and meets his eyes. “Talk.”
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	exit light

**Author's Note:**

> my last exo fic was four years ago. thanks exo for finally giving me the AU inspo i needed to get back on my bullshit lmao.
> 
> this is vaguely written around a superpower exo universe that i have in my mind tying loosely to some of the MVs. if it's different from any of the theories it's because i just made up my own stuff. :v i might have more plans for this 'verse if exo keeps doing the thing.
> 
> enjoy & thanks for reading!

Jongdae picks up a chess piece.

Alabaster and stained a dark red, it matches the rest of the room, starkly lit by the flashing screens mounted to the wall beside them. It matches the perfectly-fitted sleeve of the scarlet jacket that rides up when Chen stretches, cat-like and uncomfortably familiar.

It matches the tinge of blood on his lip, the coy curl of the crimson lashes of his left eye.

Jongdae sets the piece back down again. It’s all very extravagant. And a very obvious trap.

Yet, he’s still here. Sitting opposite a man wearing his skin, his eyes, his smile.

“You’re not usually this quiet,” Chen observes.

“Well, you’re the one who lured me here,” Jongdae says. He settles into the high-backed chair and meets his eyes. “Talk.”

Chen gives nothing away in the set of his mouth, the flicker of his gaze across Jongdae’s body. Up, down. “Let’s play first,” he says, tapping the table, a perverted sweetness wrapped around each softly murmured syllable in a voice that now sounds foreign and unrecognisable and _not-his_ to Jongdae even though it is his.

Jongdae motions towards the board. “After you.”

He’s never been much of a chess player. When he was younger, still in school, it’d mostly gone over his head. All those complex tactics, having to be three steps ahead of the opponent at all times—it’s much like the present; he leaves the strategies and the politicking to Junmyeon and Sehun. It’s not his place. It’s never been his place. He doesn’t know why Chen’s decided they should play, if Chen is anything like him on the inside.

As if reading his mind, Chen says, “Neither of us have the upper hand here. It’s all yours to win.”

“All mine to lose, too,” Jongdae says. He glances up at the camera feeds playing out across all fifteen screens. A few of them reflect the room. The chess pieces set out, ready to be moved. Jongdae’s side profile. His face over Chen’s shoulder. Chen’s hand, resting on the edge of the table.

And, on the others, his members—Baekhyun in the mess hall, Sehun sitting across him. Jongin out on patrol with Chanyeol. Junmyeon speaking before a crowd. Even Yixing, still stuck an ocean away brokering diplomacy for their lives—his pale face is unmistakable this close up. Even Minseok and Kyungsoo, asleep in bunks half a continent away from Jongdae, half a continent away from each other.

 _Remember the rules,_ Chen had told him just moments ago. _I kill each one you lose._

That’s eight of them, then. Battered, old grief flares up dully in the pit of Jongdae’s stomach, and disappears as soon as it came. They don’t count the other three anymore.

Chen moves his knight forward to c3.

“That’s an odd way to open,” Jongdae comments, eyeing the lone figure, placed ahead of its comrades.

His hand hovers over the board, hesitating as his fingertip skims the dome of a pawn. He could go on the defense. Play conservatively, the way he always does. That single move has put Chen into an unstable opening position, but Jongdae can’t anticipate what comes next. He could just stall. Wait for a more obvious sign.

On one of the screens, Baekhyun lets out a soundless, roaring laugh at something Sehun’s said. On another, Chanyeol cuts down a branch in his way, stepping forward. And, another—Kyungsoo, tucking his face against his pillow, brow furrowed the way it always is when he has an unpleasant dream.

Jongdae settles a pawn onto d5. He’s likely playing into what Chen wants, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. “I choose who you kill,” Jongdae says, feeling strangely calm.

“That’s no fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun.”

“Not with that attitude.”

 _“Chen,”_ Jongdae says, unable to remove the steel edge in his voice. Chen doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head expectantly, eyes a little more intense than before. He knew Jongdae would react that way. “Make your move.”

He does, in an increasingly erratic fashion. Before Jongdae knows it, he’s taken three of Chen’s pawns, despite having less control over the board. It rubs Jongdae the wrong way, but he continues on.

“Isn’t it funny,” Chen says, rubbing at a spot on the board where his piece used to sit. “We’re playing a game of war in the middle of a war.” He lets out a little giggle. It’s pitched all wrong, expressed in the wrong way. Jongdae doesn’t laugh like that. “It’s funny.”

“You know,” Jongdae says, moving his bishop two places forward, “I’ve told you this before. You don’t have to be their pawn. You don’t have to do this.”

Chen bares his teeth. “And I’ve told you before. I’m not a pawn. You’re not a pawn either. If we were pawns, we’d be dying out there in the field. Unnamed. Alone.” His smile sharpens. “See, the thing is, we’re not kings or queens either. No, no. You and I, we’re not important enough for that.”

Jongdae frowns. “Then, what are we?”

Chen leans forward, and sets his knight right up against Jongdae’s pawn, e4 to his f5. “We’re just sacrifices for the rest of them,” he says softly, fingers stroking gently over the piece before he lets go.

Jongdae exhales. Claims Chen’s sacrifice, and sets it aside with the other pieces he’s captured. “We’re all equal. We’re all fighting for the same thing.”

Chen’s amusement is unconfined, spilling over in the way he rolls his shoulders and slumps back in his chair. “Say it again. Tell me with everything you have in you that you believe that. That you’ve been given the same importance as the rest of your members. Your _brothers.”_

“We fight for the same thing.”

“Then why are you here playing for their lives without them knowing a single thing about it?”

Jongdae tips his castle forward, and takes another of Chen’s pawns. He doesn’t say a single word.

“You’re fighting for them.” His words are smoke, twirling around him, choking the breath out of him, strangling him where he’s sitting. “But they’re not fighting for _you.”_

Jongdae shuts his eyes. “You don’t know anything about me,” he says, as the past echoes in his head. Distrust, arguments, the bottom of a bottle. The separation of a thousand miles between them, in time and space and spirit.

Chen licks his lips. It’s almost predatory. “Don’t I?”

Jongdae takes a bishop with his queen, and checks Chen’s king. “If you did, you’d know that I do what I do because it’s _my choice._ It’s how I choose to protect them.”

Chen looks unperturbed by the fact that he’s losing. “It’s how the system’s designed you. It’s what you’ve been designated to do. Protect. Support. Sacrifice.”

“We’re the Rebellion,” Jongdae declares. The words feel like fire on his tongue, and power in his chest. It’s the vow of a boy with hope in his heart, and the oath of a young man with hope in his hands. “We’re no longer bound by the system.”

“You’re wrong,” Chen whispers. “Oh, you’re so wrong. The system permeates all things, whether you know it or not.” He picks up a discarded red knight. “What defines this piece? Its name? If you’d never played chess in your life and I told you it was a knight, would you know what that meant?”

Jongdae watches him warily, unsure where this is going.

“Or,” Chen says, “would you only know what a knight was after I told you how it moved, or what it could do on the board? You would, wouldn’t you? Because the rules say it’s what it is.” His gaze is almost frenzied despite his impassive words. Like he’s reciting facts that have been forced onto him, over and over again. “The system creates rules that create our roles. Our roles define us. We’re nothing more than what they say we are, Jongdae. There’s nothing we can do but accept the fact.”

His hollow words slap Jongdae in the face. “Chen,” he finds himself saying, “that’s not true. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Is it, Jongdae?”

“We don’t determine who someone is by saying that they can or can’t do something. We owe who we are to what we do right now, in this part of life we’re in.” The words are raw, scraping out of his chest as a response to Chen’s unfeeling statements. “Life isn’t static. It changes, and we change along with it.”

Chen’s smile is patronising. “Oh, he’s so sweet.”

Jongdae barrels on, ignoring his aside. “You don’t have to be their sacrifice. Or whatever they want you to be. You can be what you want to be.”

“Listen to yourself,” Chen snaps, suddenly tense. “Just listen. _‘You don’t have to be their sacrifice’._ Oh, but wait. _‘I choose who to kill’,”_ he mimics perfectly, taking Jongdae aback. “I know who you’ll choose. Better you than them, right? It’s not a choice anymore. It’s what you believe you have to do. It’s your _duty.”_

Jongdae’s at a loss for words. Chen’s ripped them right out of his throat. “They’ve made you believe that,” he finally says. “These aren’t your words. It’s all them. The Labs, the red force.”

At the mention of the red force, Chen’s expression folds in on itself, like he’s suddenly remembering something terrible, shuttering away his confidence in the snap of a finger. Dread and concern clog Jongdae’s chest as he watches Chen suck in a breath, and recover his composure, expression straight as he looks up again. “Just accept it, Jongdae.”

“I won’t,” Jongdae says. He wonders what they’ve done to him. “I’m not weak.”

“Weak.” Chen rests his chin on his palm. “Like me, you mean? _The copy.”_

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Jongdae says honestly, taken aback by the sudden venom in his last two words. “I think you’re lost.”

“And you’ve found me, is that it?” Chen sighs. “Your hope will get you nowhere.”

Jongdae’s mouth thins into a line. “Why are you letting me win? This is pointless.”

“It’s not pointless. I got to keep you to myself for all this time, didn’t I?” Chen grins, and it’s then that Jongdae realises—the game never mattered. It was all about having Jongdae here within arm’s length. Having his undivided attention. “You know what? I'm tired of this game. Let's play a new one.”

Chess pieces hit the floor one after the other, ringing out like gunshots. Chen wrecks the board with a single sweep of his palm and crawls across the table to curl his fingers into the collar of Jongdae’s jacket.

Jongdae doesn’t budge. “You’re me.”

“Who better to fuck?” Chen leans in, drags his tongue across Jongdae’s cheek, and laughs, high pitched and wild. Like a storm collecting itself, getting stronger and stronger.

In an instant, Jongdae grabs his wrist and flips him over on the table, slamming Chen’s back against the remaining chess pieces.

Chen hisses in pain, but his pupils are blown, eyes dark even within the set of his ice-coloured lenses. “Love it when you’re rough,” he murmurs.

“Shut up,” Jongdae says, but he doesn’t let go. “You talk too much.”

His leg presses up between Jongdae’s thighs, slow and intentional. The other hooks around his waist, tugging him closer. “Play with me,” Chen says, voice dropping low, looking up at Jongdae behind white-and-red lashes. “You promised the last time. You never keep your promises. Stop pretending you’re a saint, Kim Jongdae.”

“I’m not keeping my promises when you’re threatening to kill my friends.”

“Well, I would think you’d be even more compelled to keep your promises when I’m threatening to kill your friends.”

Jongdae exhales. Chen is _exhausting._ Has Jongdae ever been this exhausting? He hopes not. “We’re in the middle of a war.”

“Fuck the war.” A warm hand slithers up Jongdae’s shirt, rucking it up. Jongdae’s breath catches when Chen hums and lightly scrapes his fingernails over Jongdae’s abs. “Fighting’s no fun anyway. I could destroy your entire team whenever I want to.”

“Then why don’t you? Right now? Why’d you lose on purpose?”

“Because you’ll get upset,” Chen says, like it’s stupidly obvious. “You’re me. I wouldn’t make myself upset like that.”

“Huh,” Jongdae says. “That’s… caring of you. Didn’t realise you had a heart under all that silver.”

A flash of genuine hurt passes behind Chen’s eyes. “You think I’m just a machine too,” he says. “Bad news, babe. I’m all flesh and blood, just like you.” His words press deeper. “Made in a lab, just like you.” His hand moves downward to trace over the gun holster at Jongdae’s hip. “They just made me a little more willing to kill.”

Jongdae’s grip on Chen loosens. _Made in a lab, just like you._ He hates the reminder. “We’re all created bad in the beginning,” he says, thinking about the first time he ever killed someone with his powers. How it’d simmered in the back of his throat, so delicious and so overwhelming and so _good._ How he’d felt for all of ten seconds, until reality crashed down on him and suffocated him in his guilt. “But—it’s what we choose to do after, with our lives. That’s what matters.”

“That’s naive of you,” Chen states, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that makes Jongdae persist.

“You know what’s right and wrong. I know you do.” Jongdae moves in, barely inches away from Chen when he says, “I know you don’t agree with all of it. I know—I’ve seen the way you act around the others. The X’s. I know you’re capable of choosing your own life.”

Chen doesn’t say anything.

“Come home with me,” Jongdae whispers. “Leave them. We’ll start over. I’ll keep all my promises.”

Chen looks wistful. “I thought we were smarter than that.” With the arm that’s still pinned down, he moves Jongdae’s hand towards his neck. Jongdae follows, fingers brushing over Chen’s skin until he feels it: the outline of a chip. Chen clicks his tongue, and then imitates an explosion.

“Are you afraid you’ll die?” Jongdae asks.

“I’m you,” Chen says. “Are _you_ afraid to die?”

“I am.” Jongdae thinks of the faces scattered across those screens. “I’ve got something to live for. Do you?”

It’s the second time he sees the confidence sucked out of Chen. “I don’t know,” Chen says. “I don’t know. How could I? Look at me.” His hands shake. “Fucking look at me, Jongdae. You think I have anyone the way you do?” He inhales shakily. “I’m not even my own _person.”_

Jongdae’s chest tightens. “I’m sorry,” he says, stroking his knuckles over Chen’s cheek. He knows that look on Chen’s face. He’s seen it on himself enough times in the past. It’s strange, seeing it this way. This close. This real. “I’m sorry, Chen.”

The tension bleeds out of Chen’s face immediately. Chen turns and nuzzles at Jongdae’s hand. “Love it when you’re gentle,” he says softly. “You’re the only one who ever is.”

“You’re me.” Jongdae doesn’t know what this is, but there’s something in him that keeps coming back to this man with his face, his voice, his fears. “Who better?”

Chen looks up at him for a long, suspended moment—and then he’s tugging Jongdae in to kiss him roughly, fingers curling into his hair so hard that the kiss is tinted with nothing but bright bursts of pain, ebbing across his consciousness. Jongdae can taste the static on Chen’s tongue, like standing out in the middle of a thunderstorm with his eyes closed and his hands outstretched.

“Fuck.” Chen arches up into Jongdae when he presses him down against the table, rolling their hips together. Jongdae shudders against him, feeling the outline of Chen’s arousal against his thigh. _That’s me,_ he thinks, dazed, curious, wanting more despite the warning sirens going off in the back of his head. “Fuck me.”

“No.” Jongdae swallows the unhappy whine Chen lets out, and sucks at Chen’s lip ring, wanting him to hurt, wanting to get hurt in return. “No,” he repeats, “I’m not fucking myself on a chess set.”

Chen nips at Jongdae’s jaw. “I’ll blow you. I’m pretty sure everyone’s told you how pretty your mouth is, mm? Don’t you want to see your pretty mouth around your own cock?”

 _“No,”_ Jongdae says, firmer. He can feel the flush in his cheeks, the heat in his gut that won’t go away. Chen keeps pushing, and pushing. But it’s not the right time. “Not here.”

“Another broken promise.” Chen kisses him again with his hot, wet mouth. He’s dangerously eager to please. Jongdae honestly feels like a narcissist at this point. “I’m keeping count.”

They keep kissing until the time runs together, and Jongdae can’t tell how long they’ve been sharing breaths, heartbeats, motions. Only fitting, considering they’re two sides of the same mirror.

Eventually, Jongdae pulls back. “So,” he says, cradling Chen’s chin in one hand. “They were never in any danger, were they?”

“No,” Chen admits, his swollen lips turning up in a satisfied smile. “I’ve just been watching. Waiting. You know me.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jongdae says.

“I wouldn’t,” Chen agrees.

“And this.” Jongdae kisses him one last time. “This stays between us. As always.”

“Our dirty little secret.” Chen smiles coyly. “Can’t have your dear Lieutenant General pitching a fit. Or mine.”

“Good boy,” Jongdae murmurs. He finally lets go of Chen. “I better not see you getting into any trouble for a while, after this.”

“Ooh.” Chen straightens up on the table, jacket half-unbuttoned and hair disheveled. He looks thoroughly fucked out even though they’ve barely done anything but kiss and touch. Jongdae is almost certain this image and the conversation they’d had just before will be seared into his memory for the rest of his life. “Call me that again, daddy.”

Jongdae shoots him an unamused look. “Don’t make this any weirder than it already is. Jesus Christ.” He’s never calling him that again.

Chen shoots him a wink, and says, “See you around, sweetheart.”

Jongdae snorts, and electricity crackles to life in the palm of his hand. “Bye,” he says, and he blows out the screens on the wall as he leaves. Just for good measure.

Chen's laugh follows him out. "Oh, I like that!"

**Author's Note:**

> [exo twitter](http://twitter.com/SSEOMT) | [main twitter](http://twitter.com/KAMSANGl) | always on discord


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